Hermione stepped into the familiar quiet of her apartment. Quiet was good. Quiet allowed her to hear herself.

She had been living with Ron until a few months ago while they were dating. Their relationship had been expected by the people around them and by themselves as well. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. The perfect two couples to celebrate the end of the dreadful war and the fall of the darkest wizard in modern day Britain. Nothing could be more beautiful than fresh young love which also happened to include the very ones who helped defeat Voldemort. How lovely.

At first, Hermione had thought that she had liked it as well. Ron was one of her best friends, after all. They had been dancing around each other and refusing to acknowledge their emotions for the past eight years. It felt nice to finally admit their feelings to each other. It was great. Ron was affectionate towards her and it was wonderful to just take a walk around the block holding hands without worrying about evil snake men trying to kill their best friend or the world collapsing around them. It felt nice, having peaceful night conversations with Ron, with him usually taking about what happened in the auror office and the cases they've received.

It felt too nice, like a fairytale.

It felt fake.

She found herself waiting for the fight that would inevitably come like it did during their Hogwarts years. Ron and her, no matter how close they were, would always fight. It was different from her fights with Harry. Harry felt like a brother. Their fights would usually end in hugs and halfhearted apologies over hot chocolate. It wasn't like that with Ron. Fights with Ron left marks.

Maybe she tried too hard. She wanted everything to be perfect. Maybe she had wanted their relationship to be like that as well. She wanted to be just right for Ron. In hindsight, she should have known that their relationship would come to an end, that the peacefulness would draw to a close.

Ron always had insecurity issues. He was surrounded by amazingly talented brothers. His best friend was Harry Potter, who had always been in the spotlight throughout his whole life. It didn't help that her younger self had constantly corrected him and acted like a know-it-all. She had thrown his insecurities back at his face without knowing that she had.

She had been terribly insecure as well. Hermione wanted to be accepted by the wizarding world. She had already been labeled as an outcast in primary school because the other children had thought that she was peculiar due to her magic. She also wanted to prove that although she was a muggleborn, she had the same magic as purebloods did, that she was talented as well. She intentionally tried to show that she knew the answers, always raising her hand in classes, to prevent people from looking down at her because of her blood. She wanted to fit in.

Her insecurities combined with Ron's jealousy and insecurities of his own accumulated over years in hurtful conversations and many cold intervals with them ignoring each other. They had also liked each other too much and were too young and naïve to see it in each other.

Looking back, the way they had danced around each other by making each other jealous and pretending that they did not care for each other had been too damaging. She always felt like she wasn't good enough, trying to change herself to fit what Ron liked. She found herself hating how she couldn't to fit into Ron's standards even when she knew that she was completely unique in her own way. The years of trying to get his attention had been too hurtful.

She still loved him. She could never stop loving him. He was her best friend, after all. But it hurt too much to love him. Hermione always found herself staring into the mirror at her reflection, wondering how she could change to finally become his type. She hated how she didn't feel confident enough about herself.

Meanwhile, Ron seemed to be struggling with the opposite. Every time they fought, he would complain about how she was always right. He sometimes seemed intimidated by her outgoing personality. Hermione liked talking about literature and how some authors were just amazing and made her cry and how poems were meant to be read alone in the window seat with her cat cuddled up to her. She liked tasting expensive wine. She liked taking long walks through art galleries and getting lost in big museums. She liked musicals. Ron didn't.

He thought that art galleries were too boring (Why would you pay money to look at different versions of black paint? They're all black anyway…) and that wine seemed too fancy. Books did not make him cry and he didn't seem to understand that she wanted to be left alone when she was reading. Her talks about her favorite quotes didn't seem to have the same touching effect on him as they did to her. He slept through the Broadway production of Les Miserables they watched during their trip to America.

Ron did try, though. It made her love him more. He did try to go to art galleries with her and to travel to look at ancient Greek ruins. But she saw how much it made him shrink back into himself. He thought that the hobbies she enjoyed and her tastes in food were due to her financially provided upbringing. Hermione couldn't deny that the numerous trips she took with her parents did influence her. With them being dentists, Hermione had been able to enjoy a privileged childhood. Ron, however, had been poor until right after the war. He was insecure about it. She could see how her tastes clashing against his made him feel inferior, mundane, and less experienced.

Their relationship was bad for both of them. She knew that she couldn't stop loving him, though. Ron had been the one that sat up with her all night after her many nightmares about her time in the manor and the war. He had been the one to cheer her up and to support her when she made the decision of leaving the ministry. Ron had moved out, saying that he was sorry their relationship hadn't worked out. She was sorry, too.

Rumbling thunder outside distracted her. Outside it was pouring rain. Hermione let out a light sigh, gathering up Crookshanks in her arms. He let out a purr, nuzzling against her. Thinking about Ron made her sad. She let a huff of laughter, imagining what Ron's reaction would be if he heard about what happened today with Malfoy. He would be livid when he found out. "Nobody would guess that he's a werewolf," Hermione thought, absentmindedly stroking her cat.

Contrary to popular belief, werewolves weren't as violent as most people thought. They did have animalistic tendencies which surprised her from time to time, but they were quite timid in general. They seemed afraid that they would scare her away. At least the ones who were willing to try to live with ordinary witches and wizards, anyway.

Malfoy was different. When she had met with her other werewolf clients, had easily detected that they had lycanthropy. There were always clues that gave it away, such as their hands twitching too much to because of the constant consumption of wolfsbane. There had always been something that she could pick up on. It wasn't like that with Malfoy. Maybe it was because she had been too carried away by her own emotions. She found it deeply unsettling how she managed to miss the clues that should have been obvious to her.

His case was interesting to say the least. She had initially thought that he had undergone his transformations in the manor. If he had done so, there would be no way that a curious reporter would have been able to sneak in and take pictures. The wards around the manor were centuries old and she knew that even blood magic, which was now forbidden, was in use to help protect the manor. An uninvited stranger would not have been able to even locate where it is.

However, the reaction he had shown when she mentioned the manor strongly suggested that he wasn't living there anymore. She wondered what happened in order to make him move out.

Hermione stretched, feeling her shoulders pop. The old orange cat was heavy, and today's events had made her feel more tense than usual. Finding out that her client had been Malfoy was a big surprise. "I should have known," she thought wryly, as she made her way to her kitchen. The owl that had delivered his request had been exceptionally well mannered and the parchment thick and of the expensive quality. It wasn't something everyone would think of spending their galleons on.

Hermione took out a mug from the cupboard, retying her brown hair to keep it away from her face. It was noticeably less bushy than it was at her time at Hogwarts, but it still was too curly for her liking. She should remember to braid it later.

As she poured hot water into the mug with her tea bag (she hated tea leaves after her third year with Trelawney), she heard tapping at her window. A large owl with a letter clutched in its claws, looking drenched because of the filthy weather outside.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Hermione exclaimed, hurriedly opening the window and letting the exhausted bird fly in. He dropped a surprisingly dry letter at her feet and perched on the back of her kitchen chair, clicking its beak and looking irritated. She quickly performed a drying charm on him and handed him a treat. "Take your time resting. I'll send my reply with my owl, and you can fly away when you think you can," she said, stroking the now content owl. She realized with a jolt that it looked familiar with the owl which had delivered to her Malfoy's request. But surely he wouldn't have gotten a reply from Witch Weekly this quickly?

The parchment felt heavy in her hand. It was dry, probably because of the weatherproof spell cast on it by the sender. She slit it open and scanned the contents. As she had expected, it was from Malfoy. Witch Weekly had not agreed to his suggestion to meet but instead sent a letter with different negotiating terms, telling him that they would withhold publishing their article about him if he agreed endorse a portion of the stocks they initially demanded. He asked her to floo call him or owl him as soon as she could.

Hermione glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It read six in the evening. She had had to deal with a couple of more cases after lunch with Malfoy, and she felt tired. She didn't feel like flooing him or owling him when they had a thoroughly exhausting lunch meeting already. It was already past her working hours, anyway. Deciding to floo him in her office at work tomorrow morning, Hermione walked back to the kitchen and began tidying up her flat with sweeping wand strokes. Harry promised that he would come visit her today, and she had to prepare for that as well.

Harry had thankfully remembered to bring takeout with him after being released of his Auror duties for the day, so they opened the boxes of food while sitting in front of the fireplace with their legs folded, watching reruns on the television. They had always had dinner with each other after the war ended on Thursdays by themselves.

They had just began talking about new cases in the ministry when her fireplace roared to life. Harry had already taken out his wand and was pointing at the fireplace. Battlefield reflexes. It saddened her how even in her flat, where it was okay to let his guard down, Harry still remained tense.

"Hello Granger," Malfoy called out, his face lined with stress. "Witch Weekly wouldn't allow me to meet their reporter who gathered my pictures. They would be so kind to extend the deadline, but their deal stays final." Sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

"I thought you asked me to floo you, Malfoy, not the other way around," she replied drily, letting Harry know that it was okay. He seemed confused and was staring at Malfoy's face as if he couldn't believe it.

"You decided to ignore my letter I sent. I specifically asked you to floo as soon as possible, not take your pretty time until you felt like calling me yourself," he snapped back. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I have other cases to take care of as well. You can't just floo me because you wanted to. How did you even find out my floo address anyway?"

Malfoy waved her question away with impatient hands. "Finish all of your cases by tomorrow Granger, or hand them off to another person. I know that you are certainly capable. I need you to focus only on my case." Hermione wondered how he managed to sound like a spoiled brat even with his head poking out of her fireplace. She briefly wondered where the well-mannered gentlemanly side of him had gone.

"I can't do that, Malfoy. You can't just floo me at Merlin knows what time in the evening after my working hours while I'm having dinner. You also can't just order me to drop all my cases that I have been working on. How am I going to explain this to my clients?"

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to reply, then closed it. "You were having dinner?" he asked, sounding hesitant. "Granger, would you mind if I came over? I really need to discuss this case with you," he seemed agitated.

"You can't just barge into my flat, Malfoy," she massaged her temples where a headache was already forming. "We already had a meeting today, and it's past my working hours. You mentioned that Witch Weekly's proposal did give you more time. You can come over to my office tomorrow."

Malfoy looked furious. Harry chose that moment to intervene. "Hello Malfoy, long time no see. I heard that you were doing well with that potions business of yours." Harry voice was stretched so thin, she wondered when he would snap.

"Glad to meet you too, Potter," Malfoy retorted, not sounding glad at all. "I thought you were married to the youngest female Weasley. Or maybe you needed to get away from that constant redness?"

Harry's face was slowly turning red. "Malfoy." She was too tired for this. "You have no right to be rude to Harry. He was having dinner with me when you interrupted us with your floo call. I'm sorry that I didn't reply right away, but we are talking about this tomorrow at my office, not here. I need you to leave,"

"Granger, I-

She cut him off. "Mr. Malfoy, I'll go over the letter you sent me today and meet you tomorrow at my office at ten. I also have your owl with me, which I will send back as soon as the weather gets better. Have a nice evening," She disconnected the call and warded it so no other calls could get through for the rest of the evening.

Hermione turned around to meet Harry's bewildered eyes and flushed face. "Hermione, what's going on?" he asked, sounding as confused as she felt. She wished she knew the answer.